


Time Enough but None to Spare

by WolfAndHound_Archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death, Friendship, Second War with Voldemort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5886409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfAndHound_Archivist/pseuds/WolfAndHound_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The death of someone close leaves Remus and Harry reeling, isolated from each other, and struggling to find a way to cope with the loss. The full moon doesn't help matters any -- or does it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Enough but None to Spare

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Lassenia, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Wolf and Hound](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Wolf_and_Hound), which was created to make stories posted to the Sirius_Black_and_Remus_Lupin Yahoo! mailing list easier to find. However, even though I still love the fandom, I am no longer active in it and do not have the time to maintain it. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in December 2015. I posted an announcement with Open Doors, but we may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Wolf and Hound collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/wolfandhound/profile).

The house had never been so quiet.

Sirius had made a lot of noise, Harry realized when Remus opened the door and silently led the way inside. He and Remus were both quiet people - Remus by nature, and Harry because ten years with the Dursleys had taught him to simply not bother talking because no one would listen. And even after he had people who would listen, part of him still thought that he shouldn't bother them by prattling on about himself. But now, he had to wonder - without Sirius there to make them laugh and draw them out, would he and Remus ever talk at all?

Remus went to put tea on, and Harry went upstairs to take off the stifling funeral clothes. He sat down on his bed and toed his shoes off, noting disinterestedly that the clumps of dirt the shoes had acquired in the graveyard were now dried and flaking off onto the floor. He put jeans and a T-shirt on, and padded downstairs in his bare feet.

He approached the kitchen with caution, as though afraid of what he might find - strange, because in the four years that he had known Remus Lupin, Harry had never before been afraid of him.

Remus, his tie undone but still hanging around his neck, stared distracted into his teacup, as if he were trying to read the dregs. "Hi," Harry said, standing awkwardly in the doorway. He wasn't quite able to force himself to step over the threshold and enter the kitchen of the house that Remus and Sirius had been sharing for some time, and that had been Harry's home since the beginning of the summer.

At the sound of Harry's voice, Remus looked up, startled, as though he had forgotten that he wasn't alone in the house. "Do you want some tea?" he asked, his voice rough. "I think there might be some biscuits, too - I don't really know what there is, but you didn't eat earlier, so you should have something..." Remus trailed off half-heartedly.

"I'm not hungry," Harry said, and poured a cup of tea so that Remus wouldn't have to get up. When he saw that Remus was about to protest, he quickly added, "And you didn't eat anything either."

Remus nodded, and they lapsed back into silence, each sipping his tea. When the cup was empty, Harry turned it in his hands, over and over again. He felt almost unwanted, like he was an intruder, and having lived in a cupboard until he was eleven, Harry knew all too well what that felt like. He hoped that it was just his insecurities talking - the thought of Remus not wanting him around at all was nearly unbearable - but the silence and reserve that Remus wrapped himself in like a dark, muffling cloak made it hard for Harry to convince himself otherwise. He had never doubted that Sirius wanted him; life with his godfather had been full of bear hugs, and games of tug-of-war with knotted pieces of rope, and nights spent curled up with a big, black dog, whose presence was simply the most comforting thing Harry had ever known. Remus could be comforting, too - but not this silent, closed off, alienating Remus, who was very nearly a stranger.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, but that didn't block out the barrage of painful memories that threatened, that always seemed to be threatening these days. He'd thought he'd cried himself out the night they'd heard the news, during the hours spent alone in his bed, raging against everyone he could think of. The list had been long; Voldemort had topped it, of course, and Harry's hatred for the half-man, half-thing that Tom Riddle had become had increased to sickening proportions. And Pettigrew, for having cast the spell - Harry wished desperately that he'd let Sirius and Remus kill the rat in the Shrieking Shack, though he knew that if it hadn't been Wormtail it would have been someone else.

But along with them, he cursed Dumbledore for having sent Sirius out on that mission, when he should have been safe at home with Remus and Harry. He had hated Severus Snape with a passion that no unfairness in the classroom, no loss of house points, could have ever induced. Snape had been there and he had done nothing, and that night Harry had thoroughly convinced himself that the reason his godfather had died was that Snape hated him for something that had happened twenty years ago, that Snape had wanted Sirius to die. And of course, Harry blamed himself for simply being who he was, but after two years of living with Cedric's death, guilt had become an inseparable part of him, something that pulsed inside of him along with his heartbeat.

His fury at what seemed like half the wizarding world temporarily kept him from feeling the worst anger of all.

He was furious at Sirius. Maybe more than anyone else, and Harry knew it was horrible of him to feel that way. But part of him couldn't help but think - Harry had survived the Killing Curse when he was just a baby, and surely if he could, then a full-grown wizard with a wand could have done something. If only he had wanted it enough, if only he had cared enough about Harry and Remus, then he wouldn't have left them. He would have found a way to stay.

Those thoughts had finally found their way into the conscious part of his mind around three o'clock in the morning, only a few hours after they'd heard. Harry had sobbed into his pillow, angry with himself and his godfather and everyone else, including Remus, who was two rooms away and didn't know that Harry needed him right then.

Sirius had always known. Somehow, he'd had a sixth sense for when Harry was having a nightmare, when he needed Sirius to come in and wake him up, and sit with him until he fell asleep again. But Remus didn't know, or maybe he did, but couldn't bring himself to deal with Harry's grief on top of his own. And so the two of them had spent that night apart, in separate rooms in the tiny house. All of Europe might as well have been between them. And Harry thought that that was when the silence had started.

Harry suddenly became aware that he was being stared at. He glanced up and briefly met Remus's eyes, before looking quickly away again.

"Harry," Remus said, and then stopped. Clearly stalling for time, he stood up, collected the teacups, and began washing them without magic. Harry, eyes itchy and throat aching with unshed tears, watched him. "Harry," Remus said again, when the second teacup had been dried and was hanging neatly from a hook on the wall. "I think it might be best if you went to the Weasleys for the rest of the summer."

For a moment, Harry couldn't breathe. He'd been right, he realized, and felt sick to his stomach. Remus really didn't want him around anymore. Squeezing the words painfully past the lump in his throat, Harry managed a faint, "Oh."

"It's just..." Remus sighed, rubbing a hand over his eyes wearily, and leaned on the sink for support. "I'm not going to be very good company," he finally said. "And the full moon is tomorrow night, and, well..." He sighed. "It's probably not going to be a pleasant transformation."

Harry heard the dread in Remus's voice, the suppressed anguish that he was just barely controlling. But he couldn't find it in himself to care very much, because he was having enough trouble controlling himself. It wouldn't do to start bawling and begging Remus to let him stay. But would the unceasing scramble and bustle of the Burrow be any better for him than Remus's complete and utter silence? Harry doubted it.

"And Molly and Arthur can look after you much better than I ever could," Remus was saying. "And you'd be with Ron, and..." He stopped talking suddenly.

Ron. Harry sighed. Ron was his best friend, but he didn't know how to be quiet. And even though the silence between him and Remus was bothering him, he didn't need a crowd of boisterous Weasleys around either. They'd never let him alone, he realized, and even if everything would be a distraction, he wasn't sure it was really what he needed.

Remus was looking at him, he realized. Obviously waiting for a response. What Harry wanted to do was get up and go over to him, to put his arms around Remus and bury his face in his shoulder and say that the two of them would be all right, but only if they didn't shut each other out. He wanted to tell him that even if he couldn't be with him during the transformations the way that Sirius had been, he could be there afterward. He wanted to say that he wasn't afraid of Remus and never had been, and that Harry needed him, so please... please...

But he couldn't say any of that. Instead he stood up and said, almost inaudibly, "I'm going to take a shower."

And then he fled up the stairs.

\+ + +

Harry didn't come back down. Remus heard the shower running for a long time, and then the sounds of Harry moving around upstairs, but he didn't reappear. After awhile, Remus sat down at the kitchen table and tried to draft a note to the Weasleys. He wasn't concentrating very well at all, though. He was exhausted from the funeral, achy and miserable and on-edge from the full moon, and dreading having to write the letter.

Dear Arthur and Molly, he wrote, and then stopped, unable to bring himself to write another word. Thank you for coming to the funeral, he finally managed. It meant a lot to both Harry and myself to see you there.

He took a deep breath. He was going to have to do this, even if every instinct he had was screaming that it was a mistake and that Harry didn't want to leave anymore than Remus wanted to let him go. But Remus knew that if he let Harry stay, it'd be the most selfish decision he could possibly make. He didn't know what to do for Harry, didn't know what to say or how to treat him. He'd always taken his cue from Sirius on that, except for that year at Hogwarts and then... Remus had been a teacher. There had been boundaries and rules. He hadn't been Harry's parent. He didn't know how to be Harry's parent.

Remus set the quill down and rested his hands palms down on the table to stop them from shaking. Then he picked the quill up again.

I'm writing to ask you if you wouldn't mind Harry staying with you for the rest of the summer. I'm afraid that I can't give him what he needs right now, and I'm worried that stuck here in this house with me, he'd dwell too much on all that's happened. I know it's asking a lot, but I was hoping that you'd be willing to take him in and care for him as I can't. Tomorrow night is the full moon and I'd rather he not be here, so please let me know as soon as possible.

Thank you. Respectfully,

Remus Lupin

He sent Hedwig with the letter before he could change his mind.

He was almost asleep on the couch when Harry finally came back down. He sat up, and saw that Harry was looking around in confusion. "Are you okay?" Remus asked.

"Where's Hedwig?" Harry replied, a note of suspicion in his voice.

"I sent her to the Weasleys."

Harry's shoulders stiffened and he turned to look at Remus. He was unnaturally pale, with dark shadows beneath his red-rimmed eyes. Remus thought that it was a mark of how unfit he was to care for Harry that he hadn't noticed until then how sleep-deprived and ill the boy had been looking ever since that night.

"I thought we were going to talk about that some more," Harry said quietly.

Remus shook his head. "I really think it would be best."

"Well, I don't." Harry looked a bit shocked at his own words.

Remus glanced up sharply. "I'm sorry, Harry, but - "

"But what I want doesn't matter?" Harry clenched his fists at his sides and looked away. "I guess not. Fine. When?"

"Tomorrow, hopefully," Remus said.

"Well," Harry said, and though his tone was cold, his eyes were so bleak that all the bite drained out of his voice. "I should go pack then." He turned and trudged up the stairs. Remus didn't hear the sound of a trunk being dragged out from under the bed, but rather the squeak of bedsprings. Remus lay back down as well, and stared up at the ceiling, utterly worn out. He didn't have the energy for this, he realized. The sooner everything was settled, the sooner Harry could start healing. And as for Remus... he wondered if he could mourn Sirius a second time. He wondered, in a rare moment of clarity, if he was sending Harry away because it would allow Remus to begin the slide toward depression that suddenly seemed inevitable.

And this time, there would be nothing, no job at Hogwarts, no knowledge that Sirius was alive, even if he was a traitor and in Azkaban, and certainly no Harry, to bring Remus out of it.

\+ + +

"They said they'd be here around ten, so be ready to go by then. Do you have everything?"

Harry gave Remus the ghost of a nod. He was scrunched up in the old beanbag chair that Remus had hauled out of the attic when Sirius had started living with him on a semi-permanent basis. It had once resided in James and Lily's apartment, much to Lily's dismay.

"For a dog bed," Remus had explained, and Sirius had given him a baleful look. But he had used it more than once, especially when Harry was having particularly bad nightmares and Sirius wanted to watch over him without giving himself away by sleeping at the foot of Harry's bed. He'd wait until Harry was asleep and then drag the thing into Harry's room, making sure to get it out again the next morning before Harry awoke. As far as Remus knew, Sirius had never bothered to clean it, so the thing had to be covered in dog hair. But with a whole sofa free, Harry still insisted on sitting in it.

"All right. They're going to Floo in, so - "

"I know, Remus. I know all this." Harry's voice was even, but he couldn't quite keep the pain out of it. The part of his brain that had been telling him for the last twenty-four hours that Remus was so angry with him that he wanted all the evidence that Harry had ever been there out of the house, was much louder. He hates you, the little voice said nastily. And who wouldn't? Sirius wouldn't have been killed if he weren't your godfather.

Remus simply nodded. "I should go," he said. "Don't leave the house for any reason."

"Of course not," Harry said, in a tone that nearly rivaled the one in his head in terms of pure nastiness. "You think I want to get eaten?"

Remus pulled in a sharp breath, and Harry realized that his remark had hit home. Good, he thought miserably.

Remus left without another word, without a good-bye hug or anything, and Harry threw himself face down on the couch. He picked listlessly at the loose threads in the sofa's fabric as he waited for the lump in his throat to become more bearable. What would Sirius have said if he'd heard Harry being so cruel toward Remus? He didn't even really want to think about it. But what would he have said if he'd known that Remus was sending him away? Harry didn't think Sirius would have been very happy about that either.

"I'm sorry," Harry whispered to the empty house. "I don't think he and I know how to be a family without you. I don't want to leave, I really don't. He's making me, and... and I'm worried about what he's going to do when I'm gone." Harry half-expected some sort of reply, some sign that Sirius, wherever he was, could hear him, but of course there wasn't any answer.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut. What was Remus going to do after Harry left? Somehow that had never entered into the discussion, what little discussion there had been, anyway. Harry tried to picture Remus living in this little house by himself, and simply couldn't do it. And he really would be all by himself, Harry realized with a sickening little jolt. Harry and Sirius had been all that Remus had - he'd never even mentioned any other family, and Sirius had told Harry that it would best not to ask. Harry would have the Weasleys, but Remus wouldn't have anyone.

Harry suddenly felt very guilty for how self-centered he had been. He'd been so focused on how he was feeling that he hadn't even really taken in Remus's situation. All alone, just like he'd been for the twelve years that Sirius had been in Azkaban. Harry shuddered slightly. He knew what it was like to be completely and utterly alone.

To distract himself, he tried to remember how he had handled his isolation when he was younger and living with the Dursleys full time. He realized, after thinking about it for a few moments, that he'd survived because of his precociously caustic sense of humor (that he was wise enough to keep to himself), and, more importantly, the fact that he'd simply not known that it could be any different - other people had families, but not Harry Potter, and that was just the way it was. He couldn't imagine going back to that now, though, not after knowing what it was like to be part of a real family with people who genuinely loved him.

In any case, he had often thought that Hogwarts had come just in time for him - even at ten, he'd been having what he knew were unhealthy thoughts about the kitchen knives and the prescription pain-killers left over from when Aunt Petunia had had her wisdom teeth pulled. Another two years in that house and Harry might have actually done something about his miserable existence.

Except probably not. When it came right down to it, he thought he was too stubbornly Gryffindor; "soldier on" and all that. There might have come a point, though. One too many cuffs to the back of his head, one too many days spent locked in his room, one too many snubs from a girl he liked because he looked weird and pathetic in Dudley's hand-me-downs. Who knew how much or how little it would have taken?

But Harry hadn't had thoughts like those in years. History had branded him the Boy Who Lived, which made contemplating suicide seem a bit pointless. Even now, as horrible as Harry felt, he didn't consider it a real option. He had too many people who cared about him - he missed Sirius with a bone-deep sort of ache that Harry wasn't sure would ever leave, but he wasn't alone. Even if Remus did push him away.

Harry's thoughts suddenly came to an abrupt and sickening halt.

He wasn't alone... but Remus would be.

Remus, who was mourning Sirius all over again, and who had just lost his family for the second time, or maybe even the third. Remus, who would be completely alone during the full moons from now on.

The image came completely unbidden and fully formed into Harry's head, making his breath hitch. There would be blood, so much blood, staining the snow dark red. And a werewolf's body always turns back into its human form in death.

I can't leave, he thought, suddenly terrified. I can't. If I do, if I leave him here alone. Oh God...

Tonight? Would it be tonight? A wave of panic swept over him, but then he thought that no, it wouldn't be tonight. It wouldn't happen right away, but over the coming months. The depression would cause the transformations to get worse until they were unbearable, and there would be no one here to take care of him afterwards. And unless Harry stayed, unless he said to hell with Remus's self-sacrificing bullshit and refused to leave...

"Thank you," he breathed, and glancing at the clock, he saw that it was already nine-thirty. Time enough but none to spare, the clock read.

A werewolf's anguished howl broke through the silence.

\+ + +

Dawn found Harry dozing fitfully on the couch. It had taken nearly an hour to convince the Weasleys that he really was okay here. He'd had to promise to write Ron every day, and to tell them immediately if anything was wrong. After he'd finally convinced them, he'd unpacked his trunk and gotten his heaviest cloak out. He laid it out on the bed, and went into Remus's room.

The closet was nearly empty. Remus only had three sets of robes, plus the rags that he wore when he transformed. Sirius had only had two, and one of them he had been wearing the night he died. The other one still hung there in the left half of Remus's closet. For a moment, Harry buried his nose in the robes. They still smelled like Sirius, like fresh air and dirt and sweat, and, underneath all that, clean dog. He'd never have thought that would be an appealing smell, but it was. Harry dropped the robe immediately when he felt his eyes start prickling with tears.

He found Remus's heaviest cloak, and carried it downstairs along with his own. He draped them both over the back of one of the chairs, and lay down on the couch to try and catch a few hours worth of sleep.

He awoke a few minutes after six, and sat up, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He felt like his lashes were sticking together, and he knew he hadn't slept deeply at all. He was almost dizzy with exhaustion, but Remus would have changed back by now. He put his cloak on, slung Remus's over his arm, and unlatched the back door. He stepped out into the gray early morning light, and took a deep breath of the cool, fresh air. For the first time in days, he felt like he was breathing properly.

He set off across the grounds. He had no idea where Remus was; the little house was located in the middle of nowhere, and though Remus had wards up so that he couldn't wander too far when he changed, it was still a fairly large area. But it was also fairly open, with only a few trees here and there, so Harry hoped he'd be able to find him before too long.

Unfortunately, he'd been out only a few minutes when it started to drizzle. Not enough to make Harry uncomfortable, but enough to be miserable for a naked man. Harry quickened his step, and even called Remus's name a few times, though he didn't think that Remus would be conscious, or even if he were, able to answer.

It took Harry longer than he'd expected, possibly a full half-hour, to finally make out a crumpled heap that definitely wasn't a rock at the foot of one of the trees. By then it was raining a bit harder, though not enough to seep through the cloak that Harry wore, which was enchanted to resist rain. Clutching Remus's cloak firmly, he hurried over to the tree, and knelt on the damp, rocky ground, ignoring the pebbles that dug into his knees through the cloak. Harry could see bloody scrapes all over Remus's body, he was deathly pale, and the way he had fallen after losing consciousness looked terribly uncomfortable, but he didn't seem to have any broken bones. That had been Harry's biggest worry, that Remus would be injured in some way that Harry didn't know how to fix.

Very carefully, Harry managed to straighten Remus's twisted body out, and then spread the cloak out over it, tucking it around him as best as possible. Then Harry scrambled over Remus so that he was sitting up against the tree with the older man's head and shoulders in his lap. The tree sheltered them from the worst of the rain, though fat drops from the leaves kept falling onto Harry's head and running down the back of his neck in cold rivulets. He pulled the hood of Remus's cloak up and around his face and leaned his head back against the rough trunk of the tree. He closed his eyes, listening to the patter of the rain and the sound of the leaves as they shivered against one another in the wind.

"S'okay," he whispered drowsily. "I've got 'im, Sirius."

\+ + +

Remus awoke with a start, his head jerking up off his pillow suddenly. His entire body tensed, and he stifled a gasp at the pain throbbing through his muscles. He forced himself to relax, and take stock. He was lying on the sofa in the living room, the morning after the full moon, with no idea how he'd gotten there. He had dim memories of waking once before and walking back to the house in the rain. Someone had helped him, he knew. Probably...

No, not Sirius. Never again Sirius.

Someone sneezed. Remus froze.

He turned carefully over onto his side and saw Harry curled up on the beanbag chair. Harry sneezed again, and this time he woke himself up completely. He sniffled, and pulled his quilt tighter around himself. He glanced up to check on Remus, and, seeing that he was awake, his eyes widened almost guiltily. "Hi," he whispered.

"Good morning," Remus said, his voice scratchy.

"Do you want me to make some tea?" Harry asked, sitting up. He didn't wait for Remus to answer, but simply left before Remus could ask the obvious question: What are you doing here?

It must have been Harry, Remus quickly realized, who had helped him back to the house this morning. Remus didn't know what to think about that, though his initial feeling was embarrassment at Harry having seen him that way. And after the way he and Harry had left things, he had thought that he'd probably never see him again. Harry had been so angry at Remus earlier - angry enough to be cruel, something Harry never was. Remus wondered briefly what Harry had told the Weasleys, and then sighed, pounding one hand ineffectually against the back of the couch. If only Harry had listened, he would have been so much better off. But no, it appeared that he was determined to get himself stuck with a middle-aged, broken-down, grieving werewolf. Stupid boy, Remus thought, trying and failing to keep the affection - and the gratitude - out of the thought.

Just then Harry returned, carrying a tray with tea and some biscuits that he must have managed to dig up from the depths of the pantry. He set it on the coffee table and poured two cups. Remus managed to get himself more or less upright with the use of some throw pillows, and Harry handed him his cup of tea. Harry sat cross-legged on the floor, leaning up against one of the armchairs, and stared moodily out of the living room window.

It was raining pretty hard. Remus winced, thinking about waking up out there, naked, in the rain. He suddenly found it difficult to be angry with Harry for disobeying him.

"So," Remus said after a moment, "you care to tell me what you're doing here when you should be in Ottery St. Catchpole?"

Harry shrugged. "That isn't where I need to be."

"Yes," Remus said firmly, "it is. For your own good -"

"And what about for your own good?" Harry demanded, looking up at him from beneath a fringe of messy black hair. "Because I'm starting to believe that you don't want me to leave any more than I do."

Remus sighed deeply. "This has nothing to do with what either of us wants. It has to do with what is best for you."

Harry stared at him incredulously for a moment. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and Sirius would kick your ass if he heard you say it."

"Hey!" Remus snapped, sitting up so quickly that he nearly spilled his tea. A rush of dizziness overcame him, and he was afraid he rather spoiled the effect by having to lie back down immediately. Harry rescued the teacup and set it on the coffee table. "Do not bring his name into this. That's not fair and you know it."

"I'm not playing fair," Harry answered stubbornly. "I'm playing to win. And you know - you know - that I'm right."

"Sirius would want you to be happy. He'd want you to have a real family, with people who can look after you properly."

"Yes, he would. But I can tell you what he bloody wouldn't want, and that's for you to commit slow suicide by way of your transformations!"

There was a momentary, stunned silence. "You are leaving," Remus said through clenched teeth, "and there will be no argument."

"I'm not leaving," Harry retorted. "What are you going to do, carry me out bodily? You can barely lift your teacup. Neither of us is going anywhere, and we are going to have this conversation, because I'm sick and tired of us not talking."

Remus shook his head. "The fact that you seem to know what you're getting into makes this even more foolish. No, I'm not stable, is that what you want to hear? I was the Last Marauder once before and it damned near killed me then. I can't do it again."

"You won't have to," Harry said, a bit more gently. But then, his eyes flashing with a mix of anger and determination, he added, "And you will not give up. I won't allow it."

"Well, I'm afraid that it's not really your decision."

"No! I will not walk out of here so that a few months or a year from now, Dumbledore can call me up to his bloody office and give me that same fucking look he gave us the night he came to tell us about Sirius, and say, 'I'm so sorry, Harry, it's Remus.'"

"I think you are overestimating the impact of my death."

"Yes, go ahead and tell yourself that it wouldn't matter. It would certainly make it easier on you, wouldn't it?" Remus refused to answer. He could feel Harry's staring at him in fury, but he still started when Harry, his voice tight with emotion, burst out, "Fuck you, you selfish bastard."

Remus jerked his head around to glare at him. "Watch your language!"

"I think you lost the right tell me to 'watch my language' when you decided that you didn't want me and wrote that stupid letter to the Weasleys!"

"Don't be melodramatic. I was not abandoning you."

There was a long pause, which eventually became uncomfortable enough that Remus had to look away. Finally Harry whispered, his voice wavering uncertainly, "Weren't you?"

The abrupt change in Harry's tone shocked Remus. Turning his head back, Remus saw that most of the anger in Harry's eyes had been displaced by the hurt and fear of a little boy who, for all intents and purposes, had been abandoned when he was a year old, and who was terrified that it was happening all over again.

Remus focused his gaze on the wall over Harry's head, unable to keep staring into those green eyes, darkened by emotion. "I'm too tired for this, Harry."

Harry nodded. "Surviving is a lot harder than dying," he agreed. "But I'm the Boy Who Bloody Lived, and you're going to live with me."

"Harry..."

"You don't get a choice, Remus. I'm going to be here every full moon, just like I was this morning. Even during the school year. And no, that's not negotiable."

Remus shook his head. "I'll stop up the fireplace, I'll take it off the Floo Network."

"Then I'll get Dumbledore to make me a Portkey. And you know he will." He probably would, foolish, sentimental man. "Look," Harry said quietly, "I can't be with you during the transformations, but I can do what I did this morning. Didn't that - didn't that help?"

Remus glanced back at him briefly, and, seeing the mix of pain and hope in Harry's expression, couldn't bring himself to lie. "Yes," he murmured. "It made a world of difference, actually. But you shouldn't have to take care of me. Arthur and Molly -"

"Are wonderful, but I'm seventeen, I'm too old to be coddled the way they'd want to. I mean, don't you think there's a reason that their two oldest live halfway around the world? At some point, it becomes smothering. Sirius didn't coddle me, and I didn't want him to. And I don't want you to, either."

Remus couldn't think of a thing to say in reply to that, and suddenly felt bone-tired. Mornings after transformations were generally not the best time for emotionally fraught arguments. Harry seemed to notice when Remus went a bit limp, and simply collected the tea things and went to wash them up. Remus closed his eyes and listened to the water running, and the faint clink of Harry rinsing the cups and saucers. Eventually it stopped, and Remus heard footsteps approaching the couch. He opened his eyes to see Harry kneeling next to him, gazing at him with serious green eyes.

Harry smoothed the hair off Remus's forehead with one hand, and grasped one of the older man's hands with the other. "Sirius would kick your arse if you died before you were supposed to, you know," Harry said in a quiet, conversational tone.

"Probably," Remus sighed, closing his eyes again. "But I'm so tired."

"Me too," Harry replied. He lay his head on the couch, next to Remus's shoulder. "I think we should get some sleep."

"That's not what I meant," Remus replied, a bit sharply.

"I know," Harry said, not bothering to lift his head. Remus didn't know if he'd even have been able to hear him, except that Harry's mouth was so close to his ear. "But if there's one thing I know how to do, it's surviving. And you know how to do it, too, or you wouldn't be here."

"I don't know if I can a second time."

"Please try," Harry whispered. He lifted his head and forced Remus to meet his gaze. "Please. I don't want to go out after the full moon one morning and find you -" Harry's voice caught in his throat. He swallowed and clutched at Remus's hand so tightly it hurt. "Don't make me survive that," he said when he could talk again.

"I'll try," Remus replied softly. "But I'm afraid that's all I can give you. I don't think it's enough."

"It is for me. It'll have to be, anyway."

Remus nodded and closed his eyes again. Harry sat down beside the couch, keeping Remus's hand firmly in one of his, as though he were afraid that if he let go, Remus would disappear.

"It's okay," Remus heard Harry mumbled to himself, leaning his forehead against Remus's arm. "S'okay."

It wasn't, really, and they both knew it. It would be a long time before either of them was really "okay" again. And Remus still wasn't entirely sure that he could do it.

But he would try. For Harry's sake, and because, even if he had been playing dirty when he said it, Harry had been right in saying that Sirius would be furious if he saw Remus acting this way.

But later, he decided drowsily. Later, there would be time enough for him and Harry to talk, to work things out. Time enough, he thought, and knew that Harry had won. A sweet loss, for once. He felt Harry's hand go limp in his. The boy's breathing evened out and deepened, and Remus stroked his hair briefly with his free hand.

"It's okay," he murmured, though he didn't quite know to whom. Then, surprising even himself, Remus whispered, "We miss you, but I think we'll be okay."

There wasn't any answer, but Remus didn't think there needed to be.


End file.
